


They Called Them Zoos

by Diaph



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Heroism, Love Confessions, Protective Clarke, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 22:07:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12375099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaph/pseuds/Diaph
Summary: After Pike takes Lexa as his prisoner, Clarke must do everything she can to free The Commander. In doing so, their truest feelings are finally revealed. (Prompt Fill)





	They Called Them Zoos

They called them zoos. Concrete and steel giants, built to trap and display once myth-like creatures. They were small and cramped and filled with corners of the world that had no business sitting next to one another like living books on a shelf. Lions and elephants and kangaroos and emperor penguins, stuck in those tiny enclosures while her selfish ancestors pressed their noses up against the glass to catch a glimpse of a beautiful kind of wildness that belonged to vaster plains.

They called them zoos, and that feels apt in Clarke’s mind. She repurposes that word and feels it in her throat every time she peers through her binoculars at the cage that her once-mighty heda now slumps against. The new chancellor, Pike, he keeps her out in the rain under constant guard, right out in the open, taunting the grounders who surround Arkadia.

“What are your orders today, Wanheda?” Indra grumbles bitterly, posturing herself. Clarke peered through her binoculars towards the cage, always those small green binoculars that were now glued to her hands. It infuriated Indra, and Clarke knew as much, she felt the silence smoulder between them while she thought of an answer. “Is this what we are reduced to!” Indra burst and stared with fire in her eyes, “We must stand-by and wait while your people keep our highest of leaders like a disgusting animal!” The veins burst in her neck.

“You heard what Lexa said before she went in there to talk. If things went wrong and I made it back without her, I would know what to do when the time was right, she said that to us all.” Clarke confirmed and sighed on it, waiting impatiently for that moment to hit her. “She must have a plan… she wouldn’t have held back and let them capture her unless it was part of the plan.” Clarke puzzled and rubbed her head.

“Perhaps she would if she thought it would save your life.”

“What?” Clarke glanced at her.

“Perhaps in a moment of weakness, Lexa acted as Lexa. Perhaps she realised what your people would do if they catched a traitor like you instead.” Indra spat with a thin veil of bitter disgust. “A cage for a commander must have seemed preferable to a grave for her beloved Wanheda.” She growled and turned back, flanking her waiting men.

Beloved Wanheda. Clarke couldn’t make those words translate into any kind of sense. Lexa was smoulder and fire and an impenetrable kind of fog that ate the air in the room. There was nothing beloved to her except duty, Clarke knew that. She reminded herself of that on her weakest of lonely nights.

Slowly she lifted the binoculars again, peering through them into the rebar cage where her muddy commander sat solemnly. She was losing weight, a week and half she had sat in that cage with nothing but slop and water that was more often than not slung through the bars at her.

Slow moving shoulders jostled, two green eyes peering through the darkness of the cage right down the barrels of her binoculars. It made the air catch in Clarke’s lungs, and for a moment, she expected a message, some kind of coded instruction… but there was nothing, just a half smile and a nod… just a tiny expression of, ‘Rather me than you.’

“I’m going to get you out of there Heda.” Clarke said it dumbly to herself. “Whatever it takes.”

She found herself saying those words in every moment for the days that followed. Whatever it takes, she would find a way. Whatever it takes. In the moments the waiting armies grew restless, in the moments where generals called for action, in the moments where this tentative stand-off boiled to its praecipe, Clarke stared through binoculars and watched her shrinking heda grow weary in her wait for a solution… but Clarke wasn’t stupid. No matter how many armies were at her command Pike could kill Lexa in the blink of an eye. He knew it too, and that’s why he kept her right there for them all to see.

“Will you do nothing to save her as she has saved you!” Indra barked inside of the war tent in a singular private moment — two weeks exactly to the day she was captured. “So long as she is theirs, she waits for death!”

Clarke nodded and looked up from the planning table. “I have a plan. Go and ready your men.” She popped her neck and finally sighed.

In the grand scheme of things Clarke was a cog, just a set of rusted teeth working the machine. She knew that. Knew there was nothing particular special about herself, still, that didn’t seem to change the mind of anyone else. She was resound with what she must now do… and there was nothing heroic in this, she hated the idea of others thinking there is. What she must do now is an inevitability — just a cog turning on it’s wheel, performing its singular function.

Slowly, she clicked the radio on to the Arkadia frequency, and the response came immediately.

“Clarke,” Pike chuckled over the static. “You held strong out there longer than I thought you would, I’ll give you that.”

“What can I say, I had a great Earth Skills teacher.” Clarke sighed and sat down. “What are your demands? There’s a reason you haven’t killed her yet. You want something.”

“Astute, Clarke.” She heard Pike deflate with a sigh. “War is not something we want. The grounders, the savages, there are more of them… and I am not a stupid man, just a hopeful one. And what I hope for Clarke is that an arrangement can be made. One where Arkadia’s borders and sovereignty are respected. Not part of the coalition, but outside of it, and recognised as independent.”

“And you think keeping Lexa like an animal is going to achieve that?” Clarke furrowed her brows.

The radio crackled in her hand, and a pause was left to hang for a moment. “She is a bargaining chip, a big one, but with her alone I’ve got nothing but a little extra time… I’m willing to trade her and negotiate peace terms.”

“Who for?”

“You.” The response came immediately. “Your mother always seemed to think you were pragmatical, so let me put that theory to practice. You are a traitor to your people, one who seems to find yourself at the centre of world-shaping decisions, and I cannot allow that anymore. Punishing you sets a precedent that order remains — that those who lie with savages must face the consequences. What I offer you in turn is Lexa’s freedom to ride off into the sunset with her armies, peacefully, with an armistice between our people. In exchange for our medicine and technology, they will give us access to what we need to survive the winter. It’s a deal that saves a lot of lives.”

“Many except mine.” Clarke leaned back into her chair.

“Pragmatism. It’s a burden, not a gift Clarke.” Pike sighed, “The savages understand one language and that’s violence, and in order to lead I have to send a strong message. You’re a born leader too, I can tell you understand that.”

Clarke exhaled and leaned over her knees, stared at her mucky boots for a moment and rolled her neck with the inevitability of it. She would die one day, and it wouldn’t be heroic or brave. She knew that. Why not today? Why not go out doing something courageous…

No. Not for that. Clarke decided quickly. In this world love was so sparsely found… why not die for that instead?

“One condition.” She said to Pike quietly.

“I’m prepared to hear it.”

“I want my remains to be given to Lexa. She’ll know what to do with the body.”

“I never put you down as the sentimental type, Clarke.”

“Those are my terms, now let me speak to Lexa.” Clarke cleared her throat and made herself resolute. “The generals will want to hear any agreements from her mouth, not mine.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Pike agreed.

And there was static once more, plentiful and empty.

Clarke stood up and laughed, rubbing her cheeks. There was something empowering about this. Death wasn’t a conquerable thing, not something solid or conscious, not something that could be negotiated or bargained with… maybe that’s what always made it so sour in her throat when they called her Wanheda. Then again, it felt fitting, of course the Commander of Death would choose the circumstances of her own end. Slowly, she dragged herself over to the planning table and turned over a map — not very befitting for the last will and testament of an almost-deity. Still, it would have to do. There were things that had to be said, things that Lexa had to know. 

The thought made her smile. Apparently even warlords in all their cold mightiness deserved to know true love.

 

…

 

“Clarke?” A rasping tired voice echoed from the static. “Clarke are you there?”

“I’m here.” She said it quickly with a grin and folded the letter up in her hand. “God it’s so good to hear your voice… I’ve been working hard to get you out of there. How you doing Heda?”

“Well… I’ve been better.”

“Sorry your visit wasn’t more comfortable.”

“They said you’ve negotiated peaceful terms?” Lexa bemused.

Clarke paused and swallowed the ache in her throat, “They let you go, simple as that. You climb on your horse and ride off into the sunset and live to rule for another day. You let them have their independence, and they’re willing to share medicine with your people and help the villages nearby— that’s a win for you too. They just want supplies to last the winter and an agreement that you’ll leave them be.” She slung her legs over the table. “How does that sound?”

“It sounds like there is something you’re not telling me, Clarke.” Lexa sighed over the static.

“Oh, definitely.” Clarke chuckled and bit away the violent tears in her eyes, “But what do you say we just… stop. How about we all just put down our guns and go home? How does that sound?”

“Blood must not have blood.” Lexa parroted, and Clarke could tell she was smirking. “Do you think maybe home for you could be Polis too?” She asked sheepishly, almost hopeful.

“Well… it’s an idea.” Clarke sighed and relaxed into the back of the seat. “Where would I stay?”

“Perhaps you could stay with me? There’s a river that runs through the valley outside of the city. It’s beautiful in the Summer, quiet and untouched. I could take you there.”

“Sounds like you’ve been making plans for us?” Clarke dared to ask.

“There will always be a place for you with me, Clarke.”

Clarke smiled at that, “I know.” She rubbed her forehead. “Hold tight, I’m going to put you on with the generals and then I’m coming to get you. Okay? You tell them you accept the terms of the agreement and that I am to approach the gate alone.”

“Okay Clarke.”

 

…

 

She gave the note to Indra with specific instruction. It wasn’t a long letter, but it was enough. The walk to Arkadia’s gate was a lonely one, the respectful stare of a thousand fell on the back of her shoulders, all aware and simultaneously unaware that their Heda did not know the extent of this plan — that she did not yet know the cost. 

Still, perhaps it was better that way.

“You’re a brave girl.” Pike raised his chin as the gates were opened. Lofty and proud. “I’m sorry it had to be this way, Clarke.”

“Me too.” Clarke nodded and looked to Lexa as she rubbed her unshackled wrists, her expression uncertain and confused. She was barely able to stand, but aware nonetheless that thousands of eyes fell on her too, she made herself straight and solid.

Lexa looked between them solemnly, “You have your agreement. Word has been sent to the generals, they are prepared to stand down on the terms of our treaty, I assume Clarke and I will now—”

“Clarke is going nowhere.” Pike interrupted mirthlessly and placed the shackles around her wrists instead. The shocked and disbelieved murmurs of the sky people rumbled through the square, and Clarke breathed in satisfaction at that. “Her surrender was part of the agreement.” Pike explained, “You can collect her after the execution.”

“This will not stand!” Lexa’s teeth became feral and sharp, “Release her now!”

Clarke closed her eyes and exhaled. When she opened them, it was Pike’s stare she sought out first. His eyes were unsympathetic and resolute, she almost respected it. It’s easy to hate, harder to understand. Clarke chose the harder of the two and left the easier work for Pike. “Let me speak to her.” She pleaded quietly, and earned a brief displeased nod.

“Clarke, you cannot possibly.” Lexa wavered and looked away as they were given a brief moment. “Blood must not have blood. Those were your words.” She reminded solemnly and stepped forward.

“My words, and your legacy.” Clarke smiled a sad sort of smile while Pike listened on. “This is the way it has to be, you don’t see that now but you will. It will save thousands on both side, thousands of your people. And so there can be no retaliation Lexa, no wars in my name, do you understand that?” Clarke said it clearly. “Don’t let all of this be for nothing, promise me? Promise me that?”

“You could have let him kill me and then overrun the gates. A new commander would have been selected… your victory was assured.” Lexa’s jaw worked, her eyes flitting and fixing on the now helpless creature in front of her. “I am expendable Clarke, do you not understand that? I am a placeholder. I am born to die. You could have lived.” Lexa growled it through her teeth.

“Not expendable to me.” Clarke pushed her head forward and rested it into the bridge of her nose. “After they execute me take me home to Polis. I want to go home with you.” Clarke said quietly into the crook of her shuddering throat.

At that Lexa tensed and flared her nostrils into her cheek.

“Don’t let them make me suffer.” She growled it into Lexa’s skin as the guard began to drag her away towards the cage. “Don’t let them.” She mouthed it and stared as they dragged her away.

The walk back to her ranks was violent and quiet in the commander’s head. Each thud of her muddy boot a purposeful stamp, each gasp a desperate attempt not to let her lungs seize and betray her. She expected looks of disdain, expected to hear cries for justice, she expected it but it did not come. Instead a calm and silent admiration, almost sorrowful, washed over the thousands who were ready to fight and die at her command. They understand this great sacrifice, noble and pointless as it is, and yet she still does not.

“Heda,” Indra rushed and slipped a shoulder under her arm. “Come, the healers await in your chamber.”

Faces become blurry, her guts become heavy, it aches and it aches and all she can hear is the sound of Clarke’s words ringing through her eardrums. She is screaming and clawing beneath the reserved.

To those who look on she remains unphased.

 

…

 

“A letter, from Wanheda.” Indra shoved it into her palm quietly. “She asked I be discreet.”

“Burn it.” Lexa shoved it back. She turned away and looked at the ceiling from her bed, brooding and dying quietly.

“You don’t mean that, Heda.”

“Love is weakness.” Lexa chewed and sat up, pulling herself off the bed she had been ordered to stay in. “So burn it and never talk of it again.”

“Lexa—”

“I said burn it!!” Lexa screamed and buried her fist into the table. It was enough to make Indra flinch and steady herself straight, “I don’t want to know that she loved me. I don’t want to know that she did it for me; because I already know and I cannot survive another. I have suffered enough.” Lexa heaved and gasped.

“Heda?” An attendant appeared at the door, and suddenly she was collected again out of bitter necessity. “The Sky People send word that Wanheda will be executed by death of a thousand cuts. They have invited you to attend.”

 

…

 

Her arms are strung above her head, and she hangs there like a trapped animal. Head slung forward, knees buckling into the blood beneath her feet, she cannot get her stance. They scored her arms first. Seven cuts so far, ninety-three to go… it would just be her luck to catch a vein on the third cut. 

It would be okay though, Lexa had the letter, she knew the plan, she would be here soon.

The post was Pike’s idea, almost an insidious show of admiration for the ways he protested to be above. It made Clarke breathe a sigh of relief, she assumed it was his plan all along.

Traitors could not be tolerated, that was how he justified this barbarism. A necessity to ward off any and all who would dare defy the treaty and collude with the grounders. The council vetoed it, and Pike overruled.

Clarke drew a breath and faltered, digging her heels into the slick ground and forcing herself upright. She stood, wobbling, defiant. All along the night horizon they roared her name like a battle cry.

Defiant until the end.

“Let me say goodbye.” A familiar voice interrupted the proceedings.

Clarke watched Pike turn and stare at the commander, her hands behind her back and expression resolute. “The agreement stands, we will hand her over when the execution is complete. That was the deal.” Pike crossed his arm and raised his brows.

“Show your people how much greater you are than us.” Lexa stepped forward, flanked by her guards. She spoke with a purposefully removed disinterest that somehow enraptured the audience who remained disgusted by this display. “You say that what makes you better is a lack of cruelty, a lack of want for violence, show them and let me say goodbye to a dear… friend.” Lexa hung her head and swallowed the venom in her throat.

Clarke closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief when Pike nodded his head. It was over now, one way or another. Lexa would see to that. Clarke blinked rapidly and watched the warlord approach, her expression ashen and broken-hearted. If she could reach out and cup her cheeks she would, but all she can do is hang by the wrists and smile a weary smile.

“What have they done to you my love?” Lexa said quietly and slipped a hand around the back of her neck, sniffing back the waves of her voice.

“We’re going home soon.” Clarke coughed and nodded. “You’re going to take me to that river, right?”

Lexa slipped arms around Clarke, dipped her head into the space between her neck and breathed warm breath against her skin. “One day when I am old and the world is ruled by younger hands… that is where we’ll retire.” Lexa promised it with a kiss to her jaw.

“The letter.” Clarke nodded and swallowed, “You know everything?”

“I read it.” Lexa lied, because the truth was unbearable to read. She knew if she did she would never get past that crumpled sheet of paper. She would forever be shackled to the last monument Clarke touched. “I love you too, everything you feel beats in my heart too.” She leaned back and swallowed with a nod, stuck in the gaze of her perfect cornflower eyes.

“Wait, what?” Clarke panicked beneath the haze of unconsciousness. “You didn’t read the letter??”

“It’s alright, don’t be afraid. We’re going home, Clarke.” Lexa almost crooned and leaned in, “Yo gonplei ste odon, Clarke kom Trikru.” Lexa growled the last word and stuck the short blade blade in her belly.

Clarke slumped and gasped into her shoulder, spluttering and laughing, laughing so hard with disbelief it thumped into Lexa’s chest for a brief moment like a thunderstorm dwindling into rain. 

The commander stood and held her, blood on her tongue from where she had bitten too hard and a hand slipping along the back of her blonde hair. 

“It’s alright, I’m here.” She hushed and slipped the knife free. “You’re okay, you’re safe.” Lexa said calmly.

By the time they pulled her away from Clarke, by the time she is dragged and made to watch her slim body slump forward against the rope, a different kind of chaos erupts around them. There are people crowding the Chancellor, a mob of screaming angry figures who are suddenly awake, suddenly made to see the vileness of these displays.

“Cut her down! Quickly!” Indra screamed at the guards and grabbed the Heda’s shoulder. “There isn’t time to explain, we have to get her to Abby Kom Skaikru.” She dragged the commander’s sleeve towards the gates.

“I… I don’t understand.” Lexa blinked and stalled like a bull in the paddock.

“The letter.” Indra shoved it back into her palm. “I read it, and I hope you will forgive me with hindsight.”

 

…

 

Lexa,

By the time you read this you’ll be safe. Well, as safe as one warlord hell bent on dying is ever allowed to be. Everyday I watched you through binoculars, and I watched them put up a helluva post too. I have a sneaking suspicion of what they’re planning on doing with it, and who they’re planning it for (hint: it isn’t you, I’m afraid you’ll have to be disposed of by your own people for that kind of fall from grace.)

If this letter has reached you safely, then chances are I am back in Arkadia. There is a good chance I am going to die, a pretty certain one in fact. I have turned that over and rolled it around in my head and I want to be brave, I do, but how about you and me put up one last fight before we go home?

If I’m right and Pike plans on putting me on the post — it could be our last and only chance to show my people who and what he is and let them decide to overthrow him. And if the plan fails, if there’s no way to pull me out in time, it feels like a pretty worthy cause to lay down my life for. This is where your part comes in: I need you to stab me. 

I’ve taken as much clotting medication as I can which in theory should stop me bleeding to death, if my people don’t react the way I expect, there’s still a good chance you can get me to my mother in time if you convince Pike I’m dead. It will require some acting on your part, but I trust how resourceful you are.

I keep imagining what you would say right now, ‘Clarke, this isn’t a plan, it’s hoping for a miracle.’ You would probably say that. I’d be inclined to agree too. But the thing is, I am pretty convinced I am going to die and so right now a miracle is all I’ve got.

For the record, I think you’re pretty miraculous.

Yours,

Clarke.

 

…

 

By the time Clarke awakes, the soreness in her stomach is the first thing that alerts her she’s still alive. It hurts to cough, she realises too late and flops back down. The blankets beneath her are warm and the soft glow of candles burns into the corners of the dim room. She makes out the silhouette of two set shoulders and relaxes into the knowledge that she’s safe. Her sweet warlord has her now.

“Clarke…” Lexa whispered and touched her hand gently. “Your plan worked…” she said with disbelief, “they overthrew the Chancellor of their own accord. Your mother, she’s with the council now. She managed to stop the bleeding as you said she would.”

“How long have I been asleep?” Clarke croaked.

“A day.” Lexa said guiltily and rubbed the back of her neck.

Clarke exhaled and stared at her brooding warlord. “You didn’t read the letter, did you?”

The heda looked up and hesitated, she slipped her calloused hands into Clarke’s palm. “I would have.” Lexa said.

“So you weren’t acting?”

“I am well aware I tried to mercy-kill you.” Lexa raised a finger, “But you are persistent and I believe that is the thing I love about you the most. I really stood no chance.”

Clarke gripped her hand tighter and shook her head, “It took all of that for you to say you love me?”

“I suppose it did.”

“Well, at least the cat is out of the bag.” Clarke slipped a hand around the back of Lexa’s neck and pulled her close for a soft kind of kiss.

 


End file.
